Effortless Grace
by DolbyDigital
Summary: He had never been more willing to admit that he had been wrong. I've labelled it under romance, but it's more implied than anything else.


**For Lexen; I hope you like it :)**

* * *

"Like the legend of the phoenix

All ends with beginnings"

- Get Lucky, Daft Punk

He sat in the middle of the Slytherin table surrounded by his peers, all of them awaiting the arrival of the first years about to be sorted. He'd seen a few of them on the train; there was no-one overly promising this year – mainly soon-to-be Hufflepuffs, really.

He watched them all file with an air of disinterest; he didn't see why they had to go through this every year – he's much rather just eat. He let out a quiet snort of quiet amusement upon seeing the terrified glances they were aiming at the Slytherin table – how did they expect to hold their own at a school of magic if they couldn't even handle the chilling indifference and malicious smirks that was the Slytherin table? It was laughable, really.

As the sorting hat began its song his eyes wandered towards the ceiling, watching the lightening flash across the sky as the invisible barrier prevented the rain from getting into the Great Hall. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, but it was still much more interesting than watching the group of eleven year olds tremble as they waited for their sorting; it didn't matter to him that he was only a year older.

His eyes briefly glanced over the first years again, noting a little blonde girl who kept staring at the Slytherin table with a wistful expression on her elegant features. He glared at her with a haughty look of derision; if he had to guess her house he'd probably put her in Hufflepuff – Ravenclaw if he was feeling particularly generous. He was not.

He could hear the oldest Black sister talking obnoxiously loudly to a gathering of her year group; something about another sister, if he's heard correctly. From the way they talked, he had thought that Bellatrix and The Other One were the only members of their generation in the elitist family; though he did recall his father mentioning something about two boys, but he didn't think they would be turning eleven for at least another couple of years yet.

He began watching the Sorting Ceremony with a renewed interest; there was no doubt in his mind that this student would be in Slytherin, and he wanted to get a good look at her before she joined their ranks. He imagined that she would share similar traits with her sisters; the long black hair, straight nose, tall and bearing an aristocratic beauty with an arrogant bearing even at such a young age.

"Black, Narcissa," was the first name to be called, and the entire Slytherin table all took note. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise – an expression that he would later deny ever making – as the blonde Hufflepuff girl stepped forward. She was as fair as her eldest sister was dark, but as he watched her graceful movements he could see a lot of both her sisters in her.

She was tall and beautiful and had the same strong jaw and long eyelashes as Bellatrix, but her eyes were kinder – softer – and she had slightly fuller lips, much like her other sister, as well as the thick, shiny hair that both her sisters possessed. Her beauty was only marginally marred by her donning an expression that suggested she was sniffing dung, but he found that more endearing than off-putting.

The hat was placed upon her blonde head, falling down over her blue eyes and settling on the bridge of her nose. There was a pregnant pause as the hat delved into her mind, sorting through all of the information there and looking for the house best suited to her personality. The only noise in the entire Great Hall was that of the thunder still raging on outside.

After nearly five minutes, even Bellatrix was starting to sweat, clearly uncomfortable with the strange looks she was getting from some of the other members of their house. It should have been obvious from the moment the old piece of cloth had been placed on the girls head that she was a Slytherin, if what Bellatrix had been bragging about had been at all close to the truth.

"SLYTHERIN" boomed out through the hall, breaking the quiet in the most startling way and leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Slowly, the girl removed that hat from her head and placed it gently back onto the three-legged stool as the applause from the Slytherin table gradually increased in intensity.

After that almost-hat-stall he was surprised to see her walking with her head held high, her very being exuding the pure-blood grace and arrogance that her family was known for. She joined the sea of green and silver, seating herself amongst them as if she was born to be there – she _was _born to be there – treating the worn bench as though it were a throne, completely unfazed by how long her sorting had taken.

She would do well in this house, he thought, she was clearly made of Slytherin material; she could probably give both her sisters a run for their money if given the opportunity. She looked like a queen amongst the second years she had sat herself between; her haughty expression and calm outward appearance clearly showing anyone who so much as glanced in her direction that she thought she was above them in both social standing and intelligence.

He smirked at the way people were already fawning all over her; the youngest Black sister, the very essence of wealth and good breading and high social standing. She was everything that a young pure-blood witch inspired to be, and she did it with such effortless grace that he was sure many would envy her with a burning passion before her first year had even fully begun.

She met his eyes over the heads of several Slytherins – all of which were leaning forward to get a better look at her – and she smirked at him, clearly enjoying the attention.

He had never been more willing to admit that he had been wrong.


End file.
